please don't let me dream
by Running For Anothers Dream
Summary: At night, Steven dreams. When he dreams, he remembers. The memories aren't his, not really, but they feel like they belong. And he watches through his mothers eyes; lets her voice leave his mouth; wonders if he should say something to the Crystal Gems. He doesn't - and that choice just might mark the end of everything they know.
1. sometimes she calls my mother's name

There's darkness crushing down on her. It seeps into her lungs and fills her throat, choking, grasping, stealing away every last breath. Pearl reaches up and reaches out, fingers curling into the air, grabbing onto something long gone.

Sometimes, she says his name and sometimes she calls out for his mother. But always, always, she vanishes in a burst of light and he wakes up - screaming, to begin with, and Garnet always rushes into his room and holds him close, because she knows, she knows, she knows, and everything will be okay; sobbing, later on, even once Pearl's come back to him, and sometimes Amethyst slips into his room, laughs and tells him to cheer up, and they go for a run out down to the beach, playing in the gently lapping waves by the light of the stars.

Once, though, it's neither. Once, the door to his bedroom cracks open and Steven rolls over, hides his face in the pillow. It's stupid that he still thinks of this, stupid to still be so upset, because that sword might have damaged Pearl's gem but it didn't break it, not yet, not ever, and she's right downstairs. But his cheeks are damp with tears and his chest rises and falls, rises and falls, rapid, aching, desperate.

"Steven?" Pearl lingers just inside the doorway. She sounds unsure, hesitant, and it's been so many years since he's had a nightmare, so many years since she last picked him up in his arms.

But Pearl remembers those days - when Rose had first left, and it was this squirming, wiggling thing that she held; and she remembers the day that Steven first showed an inclination for powers, and how Greg had come to them, so lost, so confused, because that was his baby boy and he didn't want to give Steven up, not ever, but he couldn't take care of someone that wasn't completely human; and she remembers, clearly, hushing the child when he dreamt of reaching shadows, telling him that they weren't true, that he would never be harmed, not while she was around.

Most important of all, Pearl knows that she hasn't been in here for a long time. She wonders if she's even welcome.

Steven presses his face harder into the pillow. His words are muffled by the fabric, warped by the sobs. "M'fine," he says. Then a second time, louder than the first.

"Can I come in?" Pearl asks, rather than argue. Lying is something that she understands, after all, and keeping hurts hidden is a trait that must run amongst all of them.

Eventually, the boy nods and Pearl walks inside and perches on the edge of his bed. They don't talk, not at first, but she rests a hand on his shoulder. It's warm and solid; Steven rolls over and presses his face against her thigh, because she's here now, she's always going to be here. "I don't want to lose you," he says, but the words are too soft to really be heard.

Pearl hushes him, and soothes him, and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm right here, Steven. I'm right here."

He cries until there are no more tears. Steven's eyes burn and his throat hurts, tongue cotton in his mouth. But he doesn't let go, and neither does Pearl, and they sit there, together, in the dark, until his breaths even out and slumber claims him. The dream doesn't come again and Pearl is glad for that, because Garnet has always been so much better at this then her. Even Amethyst, child that she is, can steal his attention onto more pleasant things.

And Pearl finds, each time, every time, that she can never do much more than hold on.


	2. and once she calls for lapis

A/N: Here, have some head canons of mine that are very sad and also probably not true. I just - gotta love that water witch, y'know?

* * *

The meadow is vast. It stretches on in every direction, endless, beautiful. Vines have engulfed the remnants of a battle long since over, covering weapons and shields, hiding burns and hollowed spots in the ground, secreting away a history that so few know about, that so few care about, that so few really understand. And Steven thinks, _I've been here before_. Or at least, Pearl has, and his mother has. And he stands at her side and watches through her eyes.

Pearl fights like a rabid dog, fights like a beast unchained, fights like there's nothing else to do. And she dies, she dies, she dies, each time coming back as herself but a little bit different, just like that day, in her room, with the hologram - except this isn't a hologram. It's real, dreadfully so, and Steven cries his mothers tears each time Pearl dies, _wondering: is this it? Is this the last time I will see her, the last time I_ will know her? It never is, but the world is too broken, and the hurt is too deep, and Rose Quartz's tears are absorbed into the soil as if they are nothing more than rain.

Sometimes, she calls out his mothers name when it happens. Usually though, it's another Gem, because Rose Quartz must always be protected and she's fading fast. So Pearl shouts for Garnet, or for Citrine, or for Topaz, and once, just once, she calls out a name so familiar that it burns: _Lapis Lazuli_. But it's not the shout of a warrior to a warrior, or a friend to a friend. It's the shout of a sister to a sister. And - there's light engulfing the Ocean Gem. And - it's too late, too late, always too late. And - there is despair on Pearl's face, and heartbreak in his mothers eyes, and Steven wishes more than anything that this is a lie.

With the startlingly clarity that is Steven's-not-Steven's, he thinks _, I've taken everything from her._

Pearl lunges forward, salt staining her cheeks. With each swing of her sword, pulse of her body, heave of her chest, she is broadcasting a single thought. I hate, her actions scream; I hate, cries the look in her eyes; I hate, insists the jerking motion of her blows, no carefully created finesse to be found, no plan to be seen, and when a blade pierces her from behind, she doesn't call out a single name and there's a flicker of relief in her gaze.

"Sorry," she says, but Steven isn't sure who the apology is meant for. "M'so sorry."

The world always cracks then, like a mirror someone has just shattered, and the nameless Gem behind Pearl becomes a hologram, and the despair is no longer his mothers, is all his, and Pearl says, "Steven!"

Except she doesn't.

She says, "isn't it wonderful? Your mother and I fought here, you know. She was amazing!"

Steven wonders if she's thinking of the right thing, because as far as he could tell, she was the amazing one. He wants to say this, but he doesn't. "Tell me about her," he says instead, taking Pearl's hand in his own.

She smiles at him and does.


End file.
